


Do What I Can

by fuckedupasusual



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: All the tags apply lightly, Eating Disorders, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, mac likes taking care of dennis and water is wet, real talk, the author did a lot of projecting, unstoppable force meets immovable object
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-27 11:04:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17765603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckedupasusual/pseuds/fuckedupasusual
Summary: Dennis lets a number ruin his day and Mac is having none of it. An excerpt of what it can be like living with an eating disordered person.





	Do What I Can

**Author's Note:**

> ED tws. Please suffer with me through the first part of this ff. it gets better.

It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. And yet, it had already ruined his day and it wasn’t even 10 am.  
  
Dennis stepped off the scale and shoved it back underneath a bunch of towels to the very end of the shelf where he knew Mac would never find it.  
  
Mac always did the laundry as soon as there were three dirty towels. Something about germs... The bottom towels went untouched because there were always fresh ones on top. Dennis didn’t even try to understand it because he had gladly stepped down from laundry duty. Giving up trivial control like that felt a bit like being taken care of but that was something he’d never admit. Not even to himself.  
  
He finished getting ready for the day and stuffed a fresh towel into his gym bag. He hadn’t planned on doing a gym session that morning and it screwed his entire schedule. But what needed to be done, needed to be done. Asap.  
  
He opened the bathroom door quietly and headed towards the kitchen.  
  
Coffee first. He wasn’t due to the bar until late afternoon but he'd made plans that now had to be thrown overboard.  
  
Absentmindedly, he put the coffee maker on and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. His eyes fell upon the box of cereal on the counter and he put the mug down with more force than necessary.  
  
“Goddamnit.”  
  
It was Wednesday and Wednesday was not a Gym Day but a Cereal Day.  
  
Usually. Not today, though.  
  
The change of routine irritated him already. Angrily, he put the mug under the machine and pressed a button.  
  
Wednesday was a Cereal And Coffee Creamer Day.  
  
Usually. Not today, though.  
  
The door of Mac's room was opened and a few strands of bed hair appeared.  
  
“Are you making breakfast?” Mac asked sleepily and rubbed his eyes with one hand.  
  
Wednesday was also “Dennis makes breakfast for the two of them" Day. Cereal for him and scrambled eggs for Mac.  
  
Usually. Not today, though.  
  
“No.”  
  
He took a sip of his scalding black coffee with his back turned to Mac.  
  
“Err... okay. Are you gonna make some, soon? Because I am starving.”  
  
Mac yawned and stretched out in the door frame like a goddamn cat.  
  
“No. I’m heading off to the gym.”  
  
“What? Wait, isn’t today Wednesday?”  
  
“Yes”, Dennis hissed, “I changed my mind. I am still allowed to change my mind, right?”  
  
He lashed out and he knew it. But he couldn’t help it. The whole situation stressed him out. He just wanted Mac to shut up and he wanted to drink his coffee in silence and then spend an hour on the elliptical at the gym.  
  
“Sure, bro. Why though?”  
  
“Oh, I am sorry that I am a living breathing human being. I cannot predict every change of mind I will have after waking up in the morning. I just felt like it, alright?”  
  
He should have kept his mouth shut. Should've just shrugged his shoulders, grabbed his gym bag and left. He wasn't making any sense and he knew that talking back to Mac would only ever lead to more talking instead of less.  
  
Mac had already crossed the room and sat down at the kitchen table, sulking and side-eyeing him.  
  
“But what about our plans?”  
  
He sounded whiny. So goddamn whiny. Dennis always hated it. It made him soft and angry at the same time.  
  
“What about it”, he asked cooly.  
  
He took another sip and turned around to face Mac. He kept his hands pressed against the mug as if it wasn’t burning his palms. The sensation kept him grounded and gave his mind something to focus on.  
  
“Well, we were gonna go to the Farmer's Market, today. Did you forget?”  
  
How could he forget. Anything food related was at the back of his head every day of his life. Sometimes like a loud scream and sometimes only as a small whisper or an afterthought. But it was always there and he didn’t seem to be able to tune it out completely. Plus, it was "their thing". Their routine. Usually.  
  
“Jesus, Mac. We can go next week. We can go tomorrow or whatever” Or never, for all he cared, he thought to himself.  
  
“Dude. It’s only on Wednesdays and you know it. I was looking forward to that all week, man.”  
  
That damn whiny voice.  
  
“You really need to re-evaluate your life choices, Mac. You gotta think, and think real hard, about where to put your passions.”  
  
“Certainly not putting them into our shared time again“, Mac mumbled and ruffled through his hair.  
  
That one hurt.  
  
Dennis knew by instinct (and experience) that he only had a couple of seconds to make a reasonable decision before his own emotions would take over.  
  
In an attempt to stave off any regrettable impulsive decisions, he forcefully put down his half empty mug. He grabbed his bag and his car keys and stormed out of the door, deliberately ignoring the “Dennis!?!” that Mac yelled after him.

* * *

On his way to the gym, he stopped at a coffee shop because half a coffee was basically no coffee at all, so…  
  
He stepped inside and was hit by a wave of fresh cinnamon bagels and french toast and it made him painfully aware of his growing hunger pains. But it was a "no solids today" after this morning’s disaster (obviously). But maybe a skinny latte instead of plain black?  
  
“Sir?”  
  
He had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t realised he was already standing at the counter.  
  
No time to think, just the usual then.  
  
“Uh yeah, just a large Americano, please.”  
  
While he was waiting for his order, he found himself thinking that maybe if he’d spend an extra half an hour at the gym and if he’d take extra long to shower at home, then maybe. Just maybe. It would be too late to go to the godforsaken Farmer's Market. Food and cooking was the last thing he wanted to spend his mental energy on today. He took his time pouring sweetener into his drink, reaching for every opportunity to prolong his trip. Reluctantly, he left the shop to sit back down behind the steering wheel.  
  
Traffic was a nightmare and for once in his life, it did not irritate him. The minutes passed and he counted down the hours to when the market would close up.  
  
At the gym, he made sure to avoid that one trainer that always tried to convert him to his exercise routine that included weight lifting and an hour of stretching. After changing, he power-walked to the elliptical, put his music on and zoned out for the next hour and a half.

* * *

 Despite being tired out physically, it didn’t stop his anxiety from creeping up again once he was in his car again. Dennis spent the whole drive back trying to calm his nerves by listening to meditation tapes which for some reason seemed to make it worse.  
  
By the time he got back to the apartment, all he wanted to do was take a shower, followed by some herbal tea and a nap.  
  
He opened the door and stood still for a second. He listened for signs of Mac but the apartment was silent. He closed the door, took off his shoes and jacket and put the keys aside.  
  
“Mac?” No one answered.  
  
What did seem to scream into his face was a note on the kitchen counter that read:  
  
“ _went to the farmer's market. alone. we need to talk later._ ”  
  
What was that supposed to mean? What was there to talk about?  
  
Dennis huffed and threw the note in the trash. He took out a mug from the cabinet and angrily threw the tea bag in (peppermint flavour).  
  
As much as he tried, the note wouldn’t leave his mind. He and the water on the stove were boiling simultaneously.  
  
He realised that his hands were shaking, so he counted down from 20 before he filled up the mug to avoid any incidents including impulsiveness and hot water.  
  
The mug in both hands, he walked towards his room and at the sight of his bed, a wave of fatigue washed over him.  
  
He really needed a nap. But first - shower. The thought of ruining the fresh linen with his disgustingly sweaty body was even worse than not passing out right then and there.  
  
The tea was sat onto the nightstand and with a towel and a handful of fresh clothes, Dennis dragged himself to the bathroom.  
  
He made a point of not looking into the mirror when he undressed and fast forwarded the whole soaking up process under the shower as best as he could.  
  
Normally, Dennis would take his sweet time in the bathroom. But today, things were different and the whole ordeal was nothing but an unwelcome chore. He lotioned up his body in record time and when he threw on clothes, he felt a brief wave of relief wash over him. His breathing immediately calmed down and he felt comfortable enough to take his time with his hair. Although he would probably end up having bed hair after his nap, anyway. Whatever.  
  
By the time he re-entered his room, the tea had cooled down to a drinkable temperature and Dennis chugged the whole thing.  
  
A nice friendly warmth settled in his stomach. He felt the exhaustion properly, now.  
  
Dennis curled up under the blankets and hugged his pillow tight to his chest. Screw consciousness.

* * *

There was a gentle tug on his shoulder. Gentle enough to be gently ignored. It turned into a gentle tug with a “Dennis" attached to it. Still not convincing enough to get him out of his sleep stupor, though.  
  
It became a rough push and a “Dennis. Wake up.”  
  
“What the fuck, Mac. Let a man sleep.”  
  
“It’s four in the afternoon. I have been letting you sleep for hours.”  
  
Huh, interesting. He didn’t feel well rested at all.  
  
“So what. My body demands some little extra sleep, today.” He shrugged his shoulders into the mattress.  
  
“You leave me no choice, bro.” And without any further warning, Mac yanked the sheets.  
  
“What the hell, man. Now I’m really pissed off.”  
  
“Yeah, I don’t really give a shit. You are pissed off any other moment, every day. That doesn’t get to me, anymore. Think of something new. Being nice and considerate would shock me.” That last part was mumbled.  
  
Dennis threw him a furious glare but it was lost on Mac who just stood there with his arms crossed, waiting for him to take action.  
  
He slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting his arms on his knees.  
  
“I assume there was a particular reason that compelled you to barge into my room and deprive me of my beauty sleep?”  
  
Mac nodded, almost enthusiastically. He was on one of his “missions", Dennis could tell. Mac always radiated a high level of energy when he was set out to accomplish something. With his childlike euphoria, once it was unleashed, there was so stopping him.  
  
Dennis knew the signs and steeled himself internally. Whatever it was, he was way too exhausted for it.  
  
“I said I wanted to talk, so we'll talk. Come on out into the kitchen. I made coffee.”  
  
Weird? But Dennis did feel like putting caffeine into his body asap if he had to be awake for this. And damn, that son of a bitch knew how to get him out of bed. Plus, he needed to piss anyway.  
  
When he resurfaced from the bathroom a few minutes later (bed hair fixed), he was determined to talk Mac out of whatever stupid plan he had come up with. He really wasn’t in the mood to listen to ridiculous ideas or stupid scheming.  
  
So, Dennis was more than surprised when he came into the kitchen only to find his secret scale displayed on the kitchen table and Mac sitting across from them, like some sort of interrogator. His inner walls were immediately up. He felt tense and his heart was beating faster. He crossed his arms and tried to steady his breathing - unsuccessfully.  
  
“How did you find them?”  
  
“Sit down, man.” Mac gestured towards a steaming mug on the table.  
  
“I’d rather stand, thank you very much”, Dennis said through clenched teeth.  
  
Mac shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He stood up and shoved the mug into Dennis’ chest.  
  
“Drink.” He ordered. “I don’t want you falling asleep in a standing position.”  
  
His tone was bordering on condescending and with every passing minute, Dennis felt his skin prickling more and more.  
  
“Mac, I swear. If you don’t enlighten me what this is all about within the next 5 minutes, I will pour hot coffee all over your face.”  
  
“Dude, relax." Mac took a few steps back but maintained eye contact.  
  
“How did you get these?” Dennis asked again.  
  
“Well, this morning after you... abruptly left... I found myself a little bit... distressed.” Mac made long pauses after each word as if he was choosing them carefully.  
  
“Oh, did you, now?”  
  
“Yes, Dennis. In fact, I wasn’t just a little distressed. I was a lot distressed. It’s Wednesday. We have our thing that we do. And we didn’t do it and it kinda ruined the whole day for me and freaked me out. Plus, I was worried about you...”  
  
“About me?” Dennis ears were ringing. This was a conversation that he neither felt like he was in control of nor comfortable having at all.  
  
“Yes, you asshole. You seemed off all morning. Like, more than usual.”  
  
The coffee was becoming cold in Dennis’ hands but he didn’t even realise that he was still holding it.  
  
He tried hard to zero in on Mac’s face to not get lost in the whole situation. The sensations were too many and too intense. He didn’t know if he should feel angry, confused or scared. He kind of felt everything all at once and with brute force.  
  
“Mac, you better make your point and make it quick.” He was beginning to lose it, he could feel it. Something inside him became untethered and it unsettled him.  
  
Decades of this had made Mac sensitive enough to read the signs and he quickly continued.  
  
“Well, I may or may not have ended up compulsively cleaning the whole apartment...” He made a quick pause and it seemed like he tried to steel himself against the explosion that he felt was about to happen. “And that included the shelf in the bathroom. That’s how I found them.”  
  
“And this is of your concern, why exactly?” Dennis tilted his head in that way that always sent a shiver down Mac's spine but he regained his composure after a second or so.  
  
“Well, first of all, the fact that you hid them from me.”  
  
“I just thought it was the most convenient place to store them.”  
  
“Yeah, don’t bullshit me, dude. Second, I haven’t forgotten our last fight at the gym where you were straight up obsessed with the scale there. To the point where you would punch people off it if they didn’t move fast enough.”  
  
“I wasn’t obsessed. I was keeping track of my progress.” Dennis' voice sounded a bit more hysterical than he would have liked.  
  
“Whatever you want to call it, bro. But you are not doing it at our apartment.”  
  
“Excuse me? Are you forbidding me to use the scale that I bought with my own damn money in the apartment that I myself, and myself only, pay rent for?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“And how exactly were you planning on executing this plan?” Dennis knew he had loosened the grip on his growing irritation too much and that it was about to turn into full blown rage.  
  
“I was hoping I could just trust you on this one, you know.”  
  
That one should have hurt. Probably did. Stung a bit. But Dennis didn't fully register it because by now, a new emotion had added itself to the mess: Shame. With a hint of denial. A wave of denial, actually.  
  
“Joke's on you then, Mac. I don’t see a problem with stepping on a scale every once in a while. Therefore, I won’t stop doing it.”  
  
“Is that why you were so upset this morning?” The question came out of the blue and sounded too soft.  
  
“I am sorry?” Dennis felt himself fuming and spiralling. He just wanted to put an end to all this. He shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to shake off all of his negative energy.  
  
“I don’t know, dude. It felt like you kinda... ‘fled the scene’. And you are not eating properly, again. I notice that shit, man. I have to take care of every single meal for you." Mac’s body language was unreadable. It drove Dennis mad.  
  
He hated feeling like he was being taken care of (when he actually hated that he craved it). Why would anybody care about anybody? It made him feel weak and incompetent (so he told himself). Like a little boy. Suddenly, he had to press every button to repress the voice of his mother inside his head (and Mrs Klinsky, but we don't talk about that. We repress it). He knew perfectly well what he and his body needed, thank you very much. But there was another part of him that registered that there was somebody who was genuinely concerned. And that set a whole bunch of other emotions loose inside of him. Deep down, he enjoyed the feeling. Immensely. But he didn't feel it in him to commit to that feeling. On the surface, he didn't find space to display these inner emotions. He had this vision how everyone depicted him - or: how he wanted everyone to depict him. And it didn't agree with anything he was feeling in that moment. He was spinning.  
  
Mac stood firmly but sounded too soft, almost. Dennis couldn't stand it. He felt the rage growing inside of him. The more he thought about how much he disliked being forced into this situation, the more it grew. But he couldn't help losing himself in it. It was too late to climb out of the hole. He had already let go of the edge and was sliding down. So, who cares, right?  
  
“Stop being such a fucking Nanny, Mac!” Dennis yelled and threw the full mug in Mac’s direction.  
  
Mac jumped to the side as the mug hit the counter top and artistically burst into a million pieces. Little puddles of coffee displayed all over the kitchen.  
  
Dennis’ hands were balled up into fists and his chest was heaving.  
  
“Jesus Christ, dude.” Mac stared at him, still kind of ducked down.  
  
“Have fun compulsively cleaning this one up.” And with that, Dennis strode forward to grab the scale but Mac was just as fast and took hold of Dennis’ wrist as he reached out.  
  
Mac knew that he was on thin fucking ice. He could feel Dennis pulse beating fast. He knew that he was still high on adrenaline and in his ‘zone’. A touch could always go either way – calm him down or blow him up.  
  
Mac looked him in the eye and calmly said:  
  
“I meant it, Dennis.”  
  
“Let go off my hand, Mac.”  
  
“I wasn’t done talking. You don’t get to throw a tantrum and then walk away. Not every time. If you don’t want me acting like a Nanny, stop acting like a child.”  
  
Thin. Fucking. Ice.  
  
There was a lot of huffing and puffing and glaring on Dennis' behalf but the touch seemed to tether him down again. And so, Mac held eye contact for what felt like an eternity.  
  
Dennis was like a cat sometimes... But eventually, he looked down and rubbed his free hand over his face. His shoulders sacked and he almost looked deflated.  
  
Mac waited a few more minutes and let the touch and silence wash over Dennis some more.  
  
“Sorry about the mess." It was barely but a whisper.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, man. I’ll clean it up later.”  
  
Mac carefully weighed his options. If he led them to the couch, the change of scenery might bring the whole discussion back to zero. But standing in this mess of a kitchen wasn’t ideal either.  
  
He was also close to simply dropping the whole thing because he felt uncomfortable pushing Dennis’ limits and boundaries so much and getting him to talk about something where he knew some of his biggest insecurities lay hidden.  
  
Mac slowly let go of Dennis’ wrist and pushed two chairs to the side of the room that was the furthest away from the broken shards.  
  
He felt ridiculous sitting the two of them down like some sort of audience members but it was the best option, considering the circumstances.  
  
Dennis looked down to his hands. He was still vibrating. Mac always called it “stress shivering”.  
  
He carefully nudged his knee against Dennis’.  
  
“So, I guess I was right, then huh?”  
  
“About?”  
  
“This morning.”  
  
Mac was careful to not address anything too specific, knowing it could set off another bomb any minute.  
  
“I guess...”  
  
“Whatever it was that you saw, it's just a number, man.” Mac tried to be considerate and empathetic.  
  
Dennis buried his face in his hands, hunched over.  
  
“But it wasn’t the right number.” He whispered, more to himself than to Mac.  
  
“Yeah, I bet it was way too low, you skinny bitch." Mac tried to lighten up the moment, although he knew he probably shouldn’t encourage this kind of thinking.  
  
Dennis huffed but he seemed a little less tense.  
  
“I’m not skinny.”  
  
“Are you kidding me? Sometimes, I look at you and I’m afraid I could break you by accident.” He meant it as a joke but it came out sad and truthful.  
  
The silence that followed was heavy.  
  
“You shouldn't worry so much about other people, Mac.” Dennis looked to the ground.  
  
“Well, I don’t, actually. But I worry about you.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I don’t know. You are my best friend, bro. We are kind of co-dependent or whatever. That means I gotta take care of you. I’m only alright when you are alright. You are kind of like my second half.”  
  
Dennis glanced up to him, wearing a weak smile on his face.  
  
“I’ll try harder. Promised.”  
  
Mac wasn’t fully convinced but he didn’t let it show. He wanted to believe Dennis and he wanted to believe that things could improve and that Dennis could get better and that they could get better together and that their definition of the bond they shared could change into something more.  
  
Yes, Mac was being selfish in this moment. But he didn’t feel any remorse.  
  
He put his hand on Dennis’ shoulder and squeezed it. He let his hand linger a little longer than the average amount of platonic lingering and stood up to clean up the kitchen.  
  
Mac reached over to the scale on the table and picked it up.  He gestured towards Dennis.  
  
“Hey, do me a favour, bro? Throw these out for me, will ya?”  
  
Dennis looked up and hesitated for a second before nodding slightly. He stood up, took the scale and threw it into their trash can. He stared at it for a while like he was at a funeral, saying goodbye to an old friend.  
  
Mac knew there was always the chance that Dennis would go out and buy new ones and hide them somewhere else. But for now, he wanted to believe.  
  
“I’m going to take a shower” Dennis said, absentmindedly.  
  
Mac wanted to push for more, wanted to talk more. There were so many things that he wanted to get off his chest. About Dennis, about himself, and their situation. But he knew that Dennis' daily intimacy limit had been reached and further prodding would only lead to a war like situation.  
  
So he did what he knew best in situations like that and began to compulsively clean the kitchen.  
  
  
  
(Wednesday was a Cereal And Coffee Creamer Day.  
  
Usually. Not today, though.)

**Author's Note:**

> gosh, I had this in my drafts for so long that I was beginning to form a love/hate relationship with it. So I just had to post it. I am still not happy with the first part of this ff although I love part 2. So if you have made it this far: much appreciated!


End file.
